


Fitting

by slasher48



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Body Worship, Bunker, Cuddling, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Other, Season/Series 08, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 16:18:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slasher48/pseuds/slasher48
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel doesn't sleep, no matter how comfortable Dean's memory foam is.</p><p>Instead, he muses.</p><p>About Dean...and other things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fitting

Jimmy’s — no,  _his_  body. It fits with Dean’s very well.

Their skin makes a pleasant tableau where it is bare: Ji —  _his_  darker honey with Dean’s lighter sand at sunrise. They’re so perfectly matched that “spooning” means touching almost from head to toe.

Castiel enjoys this. Even if sometimes he’d like to spread his Form to its full span, overtake the bed and Dean’s “awesome” room (and perhaps even the entire bunker) and stretch until his wings, his very essence, could cover, warm, and protect Dean. 

He enjoys feeling that the body with which his grace was meant to meld stands eye-to-eye with Dean, and can press chest-to-chest when they’re alone, and kissing like it’s the last time, every time (and it isn’t as though precedent has not been set, so Castiel has no reason to complain about this). He enjoys how the leanly muscled, slightly soft body Jimmy gifted him with can handle Dean’s form and move with him in a way that belittles the strength of neither of them.

He is content in a way his brothers would frown upon with sinking deeply into this mortal flesh—flesh that was  _once_  only a vessel but has been lived in as more, has been embraced as having the same value as wings and light and unknowable cosmic energy (if nowhere near the same impressive stature and might: Castiel may be sentimental but he is eminently pragmatic, and strategically, his comfort with being but a man does him no favors in battle).

It’s more than their physical traits, of course, that  _fit_. “I know how you feel”, Dean has said of their “deadbeat dads”, and Castiel has seen the compassion in his face that betrays the truth, no matter Castiel’s lack of conviction regarding his Father’s absence. They share stubbornness, and an almost alienating independence and loyalty to their cause. Dean has set Castiel on the path to loving those who deserve it rather than those he was required to, and as such he has made Dean’s mistake of harming his loved ones out of a fierce need to protect they who earned his adoration and managed to keep it.

They clash almost as much as they fit sometimes, that almost  _angry_  love surfacing in both of them and warring in their words and actions until they’ve a moment to calm themselves and realize there’s no need. Their forgiveness is solid as stone and entirely partial, and the expected toil of relationships for either must sometimes come second to the good fight: a fight that, at times, makes an abrupt end seem preferable to continuing.

But in the dark, while Castiel rests his eyes and idly ponders whether he could Fall again, if just for the sometimes-missed reprieve of sleep, those things do not matter. This body, the body he sewed a soul into and remade with patience and care, however, does.

The ways that body molds, so well, incredibly so, into his arms: those do.

The fact that his nose presses into Dean’s hair and his ankle nudges Dean’s heel and their fairly substantial hands slip together, soft, without pressure but with firm assurance, like the ocean forming tide pools that exist only to eventually fade? Those things do. Falling again would surely be bearable, to keep these things he stifles his grace to feel continuously in the night.

It is a fitting fate for Castiel to end here, in every sense of the word.


End file.
